


Without Saying Goodbye

by shittybundaskenyer



Series: Heartstrings [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Heartache, Mild Smut, One Shot, Post-Blight, Sad Ending, angst angst angst, i wrote this as a companion piece to one of my drawings, this is basically just sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittybundaskenyer/pseuds/shittybundaskenyer
Summary: The night before Delia leaves to search for the cure for the Calling.





	Without Saying Goodbye

It's worse.

The never ending song in the back of her skull, the sweet lullaby humming in her mind, it was always there since she took the Joining, but after almost ten years, it's so much worse. She walks the quiet battlements in Vigil's Keep, the constant nightmares keeping her awake for days until she collapses from exhaustion. It's a never-ending cycle but she starts to be used to it by now.

When she's alone, she hums along, a broken, raspy voice escaping her throat but no one listens, only the cold stone walls and dark clouds surround her, the sky and ground both blending into the black stillness of the night as she looks down from the battlements. A chilly breeze slips through her messy locks and makes her skin tingle at her nape, and the melody changes, it's low and slower than before, and she feels like she could almost understand the song, just one more word, just one more line, but it's never satisfying, the answer _just_ out of her reach.

She sighs and closes her eyes for a second.

_This is it? This is the life I've got? Constant battles and never ending misery?_

"You're crying," he's still out of her reach when he speaks and she jumps, a hand automatically reaching for her dagger before she forces her calm composure back on herself and clenches her fist.

Alistair stands at the top of the stairs that lead down to the courtyard and she looks up at him, her vision blurry from the tears she doesn't remember shedding, but he smiles, shy and concerned, and her heart jumps a little just like every time she sees him.

"No, I'm not," she quickly wipes the tears away and bites into her lower lip to stop it's trembling.

Alistair steps closer and his hand already reaches for hers. He wraps his fingers around her knuckles and leans down to plant a small kiss on her palm, his lips warm and soft and she remembers how it feels, her whole body being kissed. How it feels, being with him, making love, feeling his body and soul, alive and wrapped in her embrace.

But this is not that kind of night. _We don’t have time._

She exhales and snakes her other arm around his neck, her fingers slipping into the short hairs on his nape and she inches a bit closer again until she can bury her face into the crook of his neck. They stand like this for a really long time and the position reminds her at dancing—maybe less elegant, but she feels his steady heartbeat under his tunic and she can imagine how they would sway to the rhythm, how Alistair would steal a kiss from time to time when no one watches. But this is not the ballroom of Castle Cousland, nor the Market Day in Denerim.

He releases her hand and hugs her closer to him, the only anchor she has, she thinks, and she feels grateful for this man, the only person who still keeps her alive, keeps her going. She wants to save _him_ , not even just herself, so she’ll depart in the morning. She’ll find the cure.

“Come back,” he whispers and she feels his lips on the crown of her head, pressing a light kiss onto her messy hair. “You should sleep a little.”

 _No, no, anything but sleeping_.

She could not bear another nightmare right now, when the song is so loud in her mind, she almost can’t hear his quiet words. But she doesn't tell him. She can’t. It’s her burden, hers only, and he has his own problems anyways.

But Alistair sees through her facade, the broken mask of her confidence and he notices the change in her breathing almost immediately. He knows her too well, and she smiles a little at the thought. Almost ten years with him, six in marriage and she can still get surprised how much he cares for her, how he knows her every desire and fear, how he understands her every thought, except the melody in the back of her mind.

“Don’t make me carry you back to the bedroom!” He tries to sound steady but he knows too damn well that she won’t sleep tonight.

“A generous offer, but i have to refuse,” she inches away a little, brushing her forehead to his chin, her gaze fixated on the laces of his tunic and the small patch of caramel skin underneath them.

“Delia,” she still loves how her name rolls down his tongue, but she bites into her lower lip and stops the confession slipping out from her mouth.

_I’m leaving, and you will be alone. I’m leaving, but I can’t bear the thought of being without you. You’ll hate me and I’ll hate myself, too. I’m leaving, I’m leaving._

“Hey,” Alistair caresses her cheek and then slips his thumb under her chin to make her look up at him. His expression is a mixture of sadness and concern, but he tries to make her feel better and she leans forward to kiss the small curve in the corner of his mouth, only the ghost of a smile. “Just come back.”

Delia kisses him again, properly this time, and his words echo in her mind, mingling with the lulling melody of the Calling. She doesn’t know what he means really, come back to bed or come back to me alive, but it doesn’t matter, not really. She _will_ come back, _alive_ and with the cure.

He grabs her waist and hugs her closer, their bodies pressed flush against each other and she lets him take the lead this time.

“When do you will leave?” he murmurs onto her lips between two kisses and first she thinks she just imagined it, but then he sighs and moves a little, his mouth hovering over hers but not touching. “Next week? _Tomorrow?”_

_Maker, this is more difficult than I thought._

She looks up at him, sad amber eyes staring into her own gaze. _He knows_ and she wants to cry again. She nods, no sound leaving her mouth.

“We don't have much time,” she blurts out finally and she already feels so much worse. This is their last night together, maybe forever, and these are the only words escaping her throat.

But Alistair just nods and kisses her again with renewed vigor, his finger slipping into her hair and his tongue caressing her bottom lip. She yields, hands already snaking around his neck and pulling him closer. Her back collides with the cold stone wall as he turns them around and presses himself closer until she can’t feel anything else, just his heartbeat pulsing under his muscled torso and his breath tickling her skin as his lips travel down her jawline and graze the shell of her ear.

“Then we should make better use of it,” he pants and brushes away her locks to place another kiss behind her ear.

She nods, speechless, lost int he embrace and the thousands of messy thoughts tangled together in her mind. She wants to say something, to promise that everything will be alright but she can’t, not like this.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” she whispers finally, not sure that she just thought it or actually said out loud the words, but his mouth leaves the crook of her neck and he nods, his lips drawing the shapes of his words onto her neck.

“Just come back.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, both from the feeling of his kisses and the worry in his voice. _I will._

Another kiss, another slowly passing minute, and she still feels the knot in her stomach and the lump in her throat, the urge to burst out in an uncontrolled sob, but she swallows back her sadness and presses her hips to his, a low groan escaping from his lips as she does so.

He slips his thigh between her legs, his arms never leaving her waist and hips as they kiss more passionately, more hungry, more desperate, tongues mingling in a slow waltz. The cold stone bites into her shoulder-blades through her shirt but it doesn’t matter, not now when Alistair flicks his tongue one last time and starts to trail kisses down her neck and collarbone, easing away her fears to replace them with that dull warmth she feels every time they’re together.

She moans and he smiles a little, the feeling of his smirk on her skin making her shiver.

“Alistair,” she breathes, the side of his head pressing to her cheek as she tries to think. “Alistair, please! _Just…_ ”

She can’t finish her sentence but he understands, slowly sliding his hands up towards the front of her shirt and he begins unbuttoning it, until he can kiss the soft skin there, between her breasts. She sighs again as his hands slip under the dark fabric, his thumb caressing the outline of the swell of her breasts and then his mouth joins his fingers, slightly teasing. A jolt runs through her spine and warmth pools in the pit of her stomach.

Time seems slow, too slow and she is lost in it, in this moment, as they melt into each other, into the embrace. But there is not enough of it to go back to their room, it’s too far and she’s afraid she’ll burst if she can’t touch him right here right now.

She doesn’t remember when his tunic falls to the battlements’ floor next to them or when they sink to the ground but she _feels_ , the hot press of his skin on hers, the chilly air of the night biting into her exposed backside and thighs but it doesn’t matter, just like time doesn’t matter. The only thing worthy of her attention is him, with her, around her, inside of her.

She sits in his lap, the position quite uncomfortable with the stones scraping her knees and she stifles a weak laugh at their situation.

She looks down at him, her hair falling around them in a dark canopy, keeping out the world as she leans forward and kisses him again, slowly this time, savoring every second of his touch before it ends.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles onto his lips and even the feeling of their lovemaking can’t suppress her sadness and guilt. She apologizes, just like always, just like when she killed Loghain or when she left her parents to die. It’s kind of worse now, though. Alistair still lives and will live if she dies out there.

“Let me come with you,” Alistair groans, sweat tickling down his brow and he kisses her collarbone one more time. “Let me help you just once.”

A sad smile appears in the corner of her mouth and she nods, not seriously, but she wants him not to worry.

“Maybe you can convince me in the morning,” she murmurs onto the skin of his neck, not daring to look into his eyes when a lie so obvious slips through her lips. Alistair hums his approval, his breath ticking the hairs at her nape and he hugs her closer once more, bodies melting into one mess of tangled limbs and entwined fingers, into waltzing tongues and rough caresses.

She moans his name, so loud that every guard can hear it under the battlements but she doesn’t care about it this time, not when this is her last night with her lover, her husband, her Alistair.

 

  
—   —   —

 

She gets up from their bed before the sun rises from behind the rocky hills around the Keep, trying to be as quiet as possible. Alistair is a light sleeper, she knows that, and she would be not surprised if he’d have been awake the whole time. She glances at him one last time, taking in the sight, so she can remember it when she’s out there without him—his broad, freckled shoulders, the curve of his spine, his messy hair and flushed cheeks. Those lips slightly agape. She presses one last kiss onto his forehead, then leaves without a word.

Alistair only dares to open his eyes after she closed the door, and he inhales with trembling lips, the feeling of her kiss still lingering on his skin.

“ _Come back to me,_ ” he mutters into the quiet stillness of their room which already feels empty without her laying next to him.


End file.
